


A Change Of Plans

by Carbynn



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Bad Ideas, Bad Timing That Is Actually Good Timing, Don't Look Into Al's Eyes, Ed-typical Swearing, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Minor pining, Romance, goodnight kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 13:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12889299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbynn/pseuds/Carbynn
Summary: “Give me a bit of credit. I’ve known you long enough to know what it looks like when you’re in the midst of doing something foolish.”Ed's never managed a lack of knowledge with anything like grace.





	A Change Of Plans

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, another 'getting together' fic. This is the fic that spawned the need for 'Prompts After Dark' and, in turn, spawned the creation of 'No Alibi' so it was never actually my intention to publish two oneshots so close together but here we are. If someone could explain to me how it took two weeks to write the 7k words that make up this fic and two days to write the 3k that make up 'No Alibi' I'd be forever grateful. 
> 
> As always, comments and feedback are appreciated!

It was all Havoc’s fault, really.

“Not once?” he’d asked over drinks, crowded around a small round table in the back corner of a bar with the rest of the team and Ed, an honorary member even though he’d long since turned in his pocket watch and left the military behind him.

 Ed had just shaken his head.

“Not interested? It’s okay if you ain’t, you know.”

“ I’m interested,” Ed insisted, fighting his embarrassed flush. “I mean, I always figured… sooner or later… I’ve just been… busy.”

“ Too busy to get busy?”

Breda had snorted, and Ed rolled his eyes.

“Kid, everyone makes time for sex. You’re young. Go out and find something. Live while the living’s good. There is no too busy, believe me. Do you think the general’s letting all that paperwork keep _him_ under wraps?”

Ed hadn’t been able to hide his scowl, though whether he was scowling at the general idea of Roy Mustang or more specifically the idea of Mustang out frolicking with a multitude of faceless women, he couldn’t be sure. He’d unpack that later, he decided, but, quite tellingly, not for the first time.

‘Later,’ it seemed, was becoming a recurring theme.

In all fairness, Ed _had_ been busy. Getting his and Al’s bodies back had been his sole focus for years, and in the four years following The Promised Day, he’d turned himself to giving Al his life back, too. He’d spent a long time following him around, enabling him and working for him, doing anything necessary to make sure that his little brother had everything he wanted after being deprived for so long. Ed himself had never felt deprived, never wanting for anything, finding all the satisfaction in the world in Al’s smile and his laugh and the way his eyes sparkled. Even now, he didn’t feel especially _deprived._ Just uninformed and ignorant, and the scientist in him couldn’t abide it.

He decided to do something about it, something clinical and experimental to see what Breda and Havoc were on about. He reasoned would be too difficult and time consuming to find a partner, especially with the automail and the scars, and there were too many variables anyway. So what better way to introduce himself to the world of sex than with an expert to obtain the most clear data points? It was a smart idea, he thought, at least until it turned out to be the stupidest goddamned idea he’d ever had, just neck in neck with attempting human transmutation, probably.

“Fullmetal,” Mustang said, his tone far more surprised than it was bastardly but Ed figured they’d get there eventually. “What are you doing here?”

Here, outside of this shady bar that wasn’t as well-known for its cocktail hour as it was for the brothel that operated on the second floor, very clearly walking up the front towards the door and not just passing it by on his way to somewhere else. Of course Mustang would be here. Of _course_ he would. Ed wanted to curl up and _die._

“Don’t call me that _,_ ” he snapped, grateful for the darkness that hid his embarrassed flush.

“Forgive me. Old habits.” Mustang took a step forward, skirting the puddle of light cast by the solitary pole lamp that marked the edge of the sidewalk. He peered at Ed appraisingly, as if he were trying to puzzle him out. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

“Yeah, you’d know all about _old,_ you bastard,” Ed muttered, doing his best not to look the other man in the eye while he prepared a careful lie. “And not that it’s any of your _fucking business_ , but I’m here for a drink. This is a bar, isn’t it?”

“Among other things,” Mustang said. “Well, if you’re here for a drink, why don’t I join you?”

“You were just leaving.”

“I’m in no hurry. Besides, I would appreciate an opportunity to catch up. Things at headquarters have been… hectic lately and I’ve had to turn down Havoc’s invitation to join you and the team on your weekly binges more often that I’d like to. How is everyone, by the way?”

Ed had a quiet working theory that Mustang had been avoiding bar nights in order to avoid him. If the team had noticed that the general’s insurmountable paperwork seemed to coincide with the nights Ed tagged along, they hadn’t mentioned it, but Ed had certainly noticed and evidence was evidence, even if it was circumstantial. Although, what Ed had done to earn Mustang’s avoidance was still a mystery. “Jeez Mustang, they’re you’re fuckin’ team. Don’t you ever, I dunno, talk to them?” Ed started down the walkway towards the door. If the bastard wanted to follow him in, that was his prerogative. He figured he could suffer through a drink or two, send Mustang on his merry way, and do what he’d come to do.

Mustang caught up quickly and Ed could feel the heat radiating off of him as his hand shot out to catch the door handle, pulling it opening and beckoning Ed through with a graceful wave of his arm. Ed spared him a scowl as he passed through, more out of habit than anything else. Mustang’s lips quirked into a half-smile that was fond and… something else Ed couldn’t quite identify but the other man wiped his face carefully blank before he could dwell on it any further.

“I’ll get the first round if you’d like to find a table,” Mustang said. “What’s your poison?”

Ed waved a hand. “Anything, I don’t care,” he said, and set off for a small table tucked away in the corner of the room. The air was hazy with smoke and the cloying smell of stale alcohol but the floor and tables were surprisingly clean. Ed settled into the chair in the corner facing the bar, watching with interest as Mustang had a tense-looking back-and-forth conversation with the older woman tending the bar. After a few more exchanges, the tension broke and Mustang laughed, scooping up the two drinks the woman had set in front of him and starting back towards Ed.

“The house special,” he said, sliding a glass across the table towards Ed.

“Thanks.” Ed curled his right hand around the glass, savoring the coldness of it. It was still a bit of a novelty, even after four years, to have his right hand whole and human again. “Thought for a second the bartender was gonna break that bottle over your head. What’d you do to piss her off so bad?”

That little half-smile broke through again before Mustang carefully schooled his features. “You could say we’re old friends.”

Ed wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t she a little old for you?”

Mustang’s eye-roll was immediate and suitably dramatic. “For goodness’ sake, Edward. Madame Christmas is my aunt.”

“Your _aunt?_ ” Ed asked, disbelieving. As if someone like Mustang could have something as normal as an _aunt._ He’d never really stopped to consider Mustang’s family situation before but he certainly wouldn’t have pinned him as someone who had a bartender-and-presumably-madam tossed in their gene pool.

Mustang nodded and took a sip of his drink. “She owns this whole establishment.” He paused then, peering at Ed over the edge of his glass in what Ed thought might be contemplation before replacing it on the table. “She raised me after my parents died. I grew up here.”

Ed nearly choked on his own sip. He coughed, putting the glass back on the table as he gasped to catch his breath. “You were raised… in a _whore house?_ ” he managed. His entire view of Roy Mustang was breaking down and rebuilding. In a way, it almost explained a lot about the bastard but it raised so many more questions.

“Not in the actual brothel, of course,” Roy said, apparently taking Ed’s shock and confusion in stride. “I _had_ wondered if you knew about the, ah, dual nature of this place.”

“Everyone in fuckin’ Central knows it, Mustang.” Ed, having recovered himself, snatched his glass back up and took a deep drink. “It’s not like it’s a well-kept secret. Didn’t surprise me that I’d find you lurking outside what with your reputation and all.”

Roy looked mildly horrified. “Edward, I _grew up_ here. I’m hardly going to purchase favors from people I’ve known for years. Quite a bit of that ‘reputation’ is due to my association with my aunt and the women here, my _platonic_ association, I might add. If my opponents take that reputation for weakness, well, all the better. I won’t deny I’ve done a fair bit of work myself to reinforce the idea over the years but my aunt’s employees are strictly off limits.”

Some strange knot of tension that had somehow escaped Ed’s notice loosened in his stomach. “Oh,” he said lamely.

“Indeed. Besides, the purpose for my visit tonight was purely professional.”

Ed snorted. That, at least, aligned quite nicely with his concept of Roy Mustang. “Only you could turn a trip to a bar into a military issue. What, are you gonna claim the stress of it drove you to drink? Put in a reimbursement request?”

Mustang’s scowl was endlessly gratifying. “As a matter of fact, my aunt had a bit of information she thought I might find useful regarding a war I am trying to prevent.”

That was slightly less gratifying.

“What the hell, Mustang? A _war_? What the fuck did we even bother getting rid of Bradley for if all you people are gonna do is stir the shit pot anyway? What’s wrong with you military dipshits?”

“I would appreciate it,” Mustang said cooly, his face a careful mask, “If you would keep your voice down. As I said, I am doing all that I can to _stop_ it happening. The last thing I need is word of all this getting out to the public. Past relations with Drachma have been rocky at best and—“

“Drachma?” Ed hissed. “We’re picking fights with fucking _Drachma?_ ”

Mustang sighed heavily and downed an impressive portion of his drink. He looked miserable, and Ed couldn’t help but to feel a little bit sorry for him. “Edward,” he said tiredly. “I appreciate that this all must be shocking news to you, but I’ve spent every waking moment for the past several months agonizing over this issue and if you don’t mind, I would very much like to change the subject. I assure you, at the moment everything is mostly under control and everyone with any sense is doing everything possible to guarantee it remains that way. ”

The news was indeed shocking, and also incredibly _infuriating,_ but Ed had to admit that war-avoidance was a good excuse to skip out on office get-togethers and maybe the bastard hadn’t actually been avoiding him after all. “What do you wanna talk about, then?”

“Absolutely anything would be a welcome topic. How is your brother?”

“Great,” Ed said, unable to hold back the grin that talking about Al always seemed to pull forth. “He’s great. He got a massive research grant through the university, you know. He thinks he can find a way to link alkahestry and biological alchemy to essentially reinvent medical alchemy from the ground up. It’s good research. He’s gonna save lives.” He paused for a moment, letting the pride settle over him before barreling on. “Things with him and Winry are pretty good, too.”

“I had heard something to that effect,” Mustang said and paused delicately for a long moment. “How do you feel about that?”

The question caught Ed a little bit by surprise. “I think it’s great,” he said earnestly. “Al’s happy, so I’m happy, and he could do worse than Winry I guess, even if she is still a hard-ass about my automail despite having exactly half as much of it to complain about as she did before.”

“I see.” Another delicate Mustang pause, and then, “I suppose we all rather thought it would be you and her together, after everything was said and done.”

“Oh, that,” Ed said, rolling his eyes. He must’ve heard it a thousand times by now. “I guess I thought that too, for awhile. It kinda just made sense, you know? But Winry an’ I are much better off as friends. Turns out she’s not really interested in me in that way.” He looked down into his drink, considering what he would say next. It wasn’t like it was a secret, and it wasn’t like he was shamed and there sure as shit wasn’t anything _wrong_ with it, but it almost seemed like too much. Mustang hadn’t asked for this. Not in so many words, at least. He’d asked, indirectly, for an explanation, and Ed had given him one that most people would accept and move on from without another word. Except it made it sound like Winry was the problem, like she’d rejected Ed and turned her attentions on his little brother, like Ed was some kind of _victim_ , and none of those things were true. Winry’s honor was on the line as much as his own was, and while he could probably deal with Mustang’s pity, Winry didn’t deserve anyone’s disdain. “And it turns out I’m not really all that interested in girls.”

Ed didn’t miss the way Mustang’s head snapped up in surprise but the other man quickly regained his composure. “That’s perfectly all right, Edward.”

“I know it’s fuckin’ all right,” he snapped, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. “I’m not havin’ a crisis about it or anything. It’s _fine._ ”

“Well, I’m glad that everything worked out for the best.”

He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was expecting but the lack of reaction was actually kind of… nice. No explanations, no hugs, no jokes. Just a quiet acceptance. “Yeah, well, everything kind of had to, didn’t it? After all that other bullshit, we didn’t really have a choice but to end up on top.”

“No, I suppose not,” Mustang agreed. “You and your brother are nothing if not resilient.  I’ve always admired that about the two of you.”

There was a confession there, a nuance, something that echoed of quiet screams and fire and desert sand and spoke to the way that Mustang cradled the drink in his hands like the glass had always been there.

There were things about Mustang that Ed never noticed as a kid, things that were more obvious to him now with a few more years of experience and his own fair share of trauma dished out by the consequences of his own stupid actions. There was a darkness in the corners of his eyes sometimes, a slump to his shoulders when he thought not one was looking, and hollow, far-away looks even when people were.  He hid his layers beneath stoicism and cool smirks and snark but at the end of the day, Mustang was as much of a mess as anyone else.

The realization had humanized him to Ed, who had always seen him as someone lofty and unfeeling. He’d always thought Mustang was disconnected from emotion and pain, was so hyper-focused on his ambitions and on results that he couldn’t stop to pay attention to anyone else. The truth was, Mustang knew pain better than anyone.

“Yeah, well, I guess everyone’s gotta be resilient in their own way,” Ed said. “We’ve all been through some shit. Not the same shit, sure, but shit all the same. And we’re all still here.”

“That we are,” Mustang agreed. He raised his glass in a mock-toast and downed the last of it, setting the empty glass down on the table carefully. He traced a finger through the condensation on the table for a moment before looking up and settling his dark eyes on Ed. “What I still don’t understand is what you’re doing at this bar.”

The almost easy atmosphere between them was shattered and Ed scowled. “I told you already, didn’t I? I’m here for a drink, and it’s none of your _business._ ” His anger was betrayed by the flush he could feel rising on his cheeks. He only hoped the lighting was dim enough that Mustang wouldn’t see.

The expression on the other man’s face told Ed loud and clear that his wish had gone unfulfilled. “Give me a bit of credit. I’ve known you long enough to know what it looks like when you’re in the midst of doing something foolish.”

Ed’s scowl deepened. The likelihood that Mustang hadn’t already figured out Ed’s game plan was basically non-existent and he had never hated him more. “Why the fuck do you even care? What does it matter?”

“It matters.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Ed snarled, his face fully scarlet now.

“Edward,” Mustang said gently. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

Ed was pushing back from the table and rising in a fury before he even realized what he was doing. “I don’t know what I was thinking coming in here and trying to have a human fucking conversation with you.” He reached into his pocket and slammed a handful of coins down on the table for the drink, not wanting to feel he owed the bastard _anything,_ and pushed out of the bar and into the night.

The cool night air was a balm on his overheated face even as he stalked furiously down the walkway. It had been a mistake, thinking he could get through even one easy drink with General Fucking Mustang. He wasn’t sure what the bastard’s intent had been but in Ed’s mind, leading questions like that could only end with mockery or jokes and he’d be damned if he was hanging around for that.

He’d nearly made it to the corner of the block before Mustang caught up with him, his hurried footsteps echoing off of the pavement like hammer strikes in the quiet of the night.

“Ed, wait—“

Ed whirled around to face him furiously, cutting him off. “Leave me the fuck alone, Mustang,” he snarled. “Before I _make_ you.”

Mustang put his hands up and backed up a step. “Edward, please. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You stormed out.”

“I didn’t _storm._ I fuckin’ _left_ , because for some reason you think you can still do and say anything you want and I have to just sit and take it.”

“You never just _took_ anything,” Mustang said with a hint of exasperation. “I know that it’s your instinct to think the worst of me, but I truly did not mean to offend. I suppose I just don’t quite understand.”

“What’s there to understand?” Ed couldn’t meet Mustang’s eyes anymore and cast his own down, kicking a bit at the ground with his automail foot. “Seems pretty straight-forward to me. Besides, it’s _none of your business._ You don’t have to understand and I’m sure as shit not obligated to see to it that you do.”

“No,” Mustang agreed, much to Ed’s surprise. “I don’t, and you’re not. I’m not demanding it of you, Edward. I was only asking.”

“Yeah, well, you got a strong history of making questions sound like orders.” He heaved a deep sigh, pulling his head and leveling his eyes on Mustang. He’d already made one potentially embarrassing confession and, rather than jumping on the opportunity to torment him, the other man had taken it in stride, and it wasn’t like he didn’t already know anyway; all his outburst had accomplished was to confirm Mustang’s suspicions. “I just, I wanted to know what the fuss was about, s’all. This seemed like the best way to find out. The easiest way, and, um, the data points would be more concrete with… with an expert.” He shifted his weight off of his automail leg, adjusting his stance a little as the discomfort and embarrassment surged through him.

“Data points,” Mustang repeated, a little disbelievingly.

“Yeah, data points. Like, statistical populations? For experimental purposes?”

“Experimental purposes.”

“Are you just gonna repeat everything I fuckin’ say until you decide what you’re gonna use to make fun of me or is science just _that_ confusing?”

Mustang was taken aback, wide eyed and maybe even a little startled. “I’m not _that_ crass.”

“Then what’s your problem?” Ed demanded. “Why do you care so much? Why don’t you just leave me alone? This has nothing to do with you!”

Mustang sighed, apparently trying to gather his thoughts before speaking again. “Edward, you ‘re entitled to do whatever you want, and I’m not going to stop you if this _is_ really what you want.”

“What the fuck do you know about what I _want_ you _bas—_ “

“I think,” Mustang continued, interrupting Ed by speaking over him. “You would be doing yourself a disservice by depriving yourself of a legitimate experience just for the sake of knowing. Your… first time shouldn’t be the means to an end. It shouldn’t be scientific.”

Ed didn’t bother holding back his derisive snort. “I didn’t think you’d be the one tryin’ to school me on sentiment.” He shook his head, tossing the hair out of his eyes. “What do you know about it, anyway? It’s not that easy, Mustang. It’s just… not. I’m not _good_ at this shit and I’m not… I mean, who’d even _want…”_

Mustang stared at him in quiet and unshielded disbelief for a moment before locking down his expression and clearing his throat. “You’ve grown into a striking young man, Edward.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not just what you can see, is it?” There was the automail leg and the extensive scarring that came with it, the bits of metal and the bolts still embedded in his shoulder and collar bone, too innocuous to warrant surgery but ugly all the same, surrounded by a thick, looping scar marking where the automail arm had been, the hideous mass of knotted pink and red mass of tissue on his side where Kimblee’s handiwork had left him impaled, and an extensive web of minor-but-numerous overlapping nicks and cuts and dents in his skin from years of being kicked around (and doing his fair share of kicking,) in military service. Who in their right mind wouldn’t see all that and _run?_

He chanced a glance at Mustang and he didn’t much like the way he was looking at him. It was hardly the first time he’d earned the man’s full attention, but it was the first time he’d ever been so aware of the weight of it, as if he was trying to divine the makeup of Ed’s very core just by looking at him. It was damn unsettling, and Ed wondered for a moment how he’d ever managed to forget just how calculating Mustang could be.

He spoke after a moment, his tone infuriatingly gentle. “We all have scars, Ed.”

“Not like this,” Ed bit back, wincing internally at his tone. When the hell had he decided to expose his deepest insecurities to Roy fucking Mustang?

The other man took a step forward, very nearly crowding Ed although there was nothing behind him but the expanse of sidewalk that spread out from the street corner. “Walk with me?”

Ed sure as shit wasn’t going back to the ‘bar’ so hot on the heels of this train-wreck of an attempt. “Fine.” They lived on the same side of town anyway and he suspected that even if he refused, Mustang would be lurking in his shadow regardless. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat and started off down the sidewalk.

He barely had time to start being grateful that Mustang hadn’t taken the opportunity to dig at the open wound he’d stupidly exposed before the man opened his mouth. “I appreciate your humoring me.”

“What?” That hadn’t been what Ed was expecting at all.

“Walking with me,” Mustang elaborated. “I know you’re angry.”

“Not _angry,_ ” Ed muttered. He didn’t know what he was, exactly. Unbalanced, maybe, when he was usually so sure of himself.

“Upset, then.”

“’M not fuckin’ upset!” he sniped. “I just didn’t picture spending the evening spilling my guts to you on a street corner like I can’t sort through my own shit or something.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with reaching out, you know.”

Ed huffed in irritation. “What are you, my therapist? If I knew you were going to proselytize I never would have agreed to this.”

Mustang hummed in acknowledgment before falling silent. They walked on for a few blocks in merciful quiet, leaving Ed to his thoughts although that was a much less merciful fate considering the current state of them. He was unsettled and wrong-footed, shaken not so much by the conversation itself but by the fact that he’d willingly confided so much to the other man. Mustang had ammunition now, whether or not he’d ever chose to use it, and Ed had been the one to put it in his hands. Most terrifying of all, he wasn’t nearly as panicked at the idea as he thought he should have been and that, maybe more than anything else, had him feeling _wrong._

He’d never actually hated Mustang. He’d disliked him, sure, and got a solid kick out of riling him up when he’d been under his command, but he’d never _really_ hated him. He’d extended a hand, and in turn extended hope, to Ed and his brother when they’d needed it most and had both guided them towards possible leads and stepped back enough to let him do what needed to be done in a way that no one else might have.

“You’re wrong, you know,” he said suddenly.

Mustang’s brow furrowed in confusion and he tilted his head in Ed’s direction. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“I don’t always think the worst of you.” At Mustang’s look of surprise Ed continued. “I mean, yeah, you’re a jackass, but you always had me an’ Al’s best interests at heart when we were kids, no matter what I thought about it at the time. So I can’t really let myself think the worst, can I?  You’re a busybody bastard and you like to _dig at shit_ that isn’t your business and you collect secrets like some schoolyard gossip and you never, ever, _ever_ just say what you fuckin’ mean but…” he shrugged. “I don’t think the worst.”

A startled little silence followed Ed’s admission and lapsed for long enough that Ed sucked in a breath to say something else, but Mustang beat him to it. “That means the world, Edward, thank you.”

Ed scoffed, tossing his head derisively. “Yeah, I’m sure you lose a lot of sleep worrying about what I think of you.”

“Your opinion matters a great deal to me,” Mustang said, and the earnestness in his voice brought Ed to a halt on the sidewalk beside him, staring up (not _too_ far up, but it wasn’t his fault the other man was _freakishly tall_ ,) in open disbelief.

“ _Why_?”

Mustang stopped with him and turned to meet his stare. “You’re one of the most genuine and well-meaning people I’ve ever met. You’re _good_ , Ed, better than I’ve ever been, and I know that you wouldn’t give me your high regard if you didn’t mean it, and if I hadn’t done something to earn it.”

“Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.” Mustang’s eyes, coal black already, were somehow darker there in the pale light of the street lamp and Ed felt trapped in them.

“Of course not. I have enough trouble fitting through doors as it is.”

Ed’s breath rushed out and he choked on what might have been the beginnings of a laugh. “Did you just—“

“I do have a sense of humor, Edward. Sometimes I can even be persuaded to leave your height out of it,” Mustang said, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Who the fuck are you calling _short_ you absolute _bas—“_

A mouth pressed against his own swallowed down his tirade and Ed went still with shock. Mustang’s lips were soft and warm, and there was a hand on the curve of his waist, first drawing him in closer and then easing him away when Ed didn’t respond. At the first hint of distance, his brain caught up and he was kissing Mustang back, a hand fisting in his shirt and drawing him down ( _freakishly tall,)_ for better access and let himself get lost in the heat of it.

A scrape of teeth and a soothing swipe of tongue against his bottom lip pulled a sound from his throat that he hadn’t even realized himself capable of making. The noise, though, seemed to startle Mustang who breathed a soft gasp against Ed’s mouth before pulling away, quickly putting a few feet of space between them and leaving Ed strangely cold.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… Please accept my most heart-felt apologies, I didn’t—“

“I don’t accept shit,” Ed heard himself snarl over the deafening pounding of his pulse, and Mustang’s face fell.

“Edward, truly, I—“

“Shut up.” He crossed that few feet of space between them braced his shaking hands on Mustang’s chest, rising up to kiss him again.

After a moment, almost like he was shaking off a little bit of the same shocked disbelief Ed had just experienced, one of Mustang’s arms wound its way around his waist and the other crept up his back and he buried a hand in his hair behind the braid. Ed gasped at the new contact and Mustang took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, flicking his tongue against Ed’s bottom lip before licking his way inside his mouth.

Ed made that _sound_ again but couldn’t find enough sense to be embarrassed, every stray thought in his head wiped completely away by the _taste_ and _feel_ of Roy Mustang. He didn’t even realize they’d moved until his back hit the brick side of the building behind him and he was pinned between it and the solid warmth of the other man pressed against him. He was on fire, blazing and burning with each shift of Mustang’s mouth against his, each brush of his fingertips against his scalp, dizzy from it and from a sudden and insistent lack of air. He tilted his head back against the wall, breaking from the kiss with a sharp intake of air.

Mustang trailed kisses down the curve of Ed’s jaw and throat, nosing his collar out of the way to press his lips lightly against the place where his neck met his shoulder, tasting the salt of his skin. His panting breath stuttered and he groaned, tightening his hands in Mustang’s shirt.

“ _Fuck,”_ he managed breathlessly.

“You are exquisite,” the other man murmured, his breath ghosting across damp skin.

“You’re insane,” Ed said, still struggling to bring his breathing back under control. “You’re out of your fuckin’ mind.”

Dark eyes lifted and locked on his own. “If this is madness, I’m happy to suffer it. _God,_ Ed, I’ve wanted…” Mustang trailed off and untangled his hand from Ed’s hair and brought it up to brush the bangs out of Ed’s eyes. “I’ve wanted you for longer than I care to think about. I’m still not entirely convinced that this isn’t another dream.”

“Or a nightmare,” Ed said. “I… I mean, what I said earlier about… about what you can see and about how I—“

Mustang silenced him with another brush of his lips. “You’re beautiful, Edward.”

“You haven’t _seen—“_

 _“_ I don’t need to. I don’t care. You’re more than the sum of your scars, however terrible you might think they are. Do you think you’re the only one with scars?” He reached for one of Ed’s hands and pressed it to his side to the mass of scar tissue that resulted from his fight with Lust. Ed could feel the ridges of it through the material of his shirt. “We all carry things from the battles we’ve fought.”

Ed shook his head, refusing to just accept this. “I have dreams, too. Sometimes I wake up screaming and, and flailing and—“

“Not all of those things,” Interrupted Mustang gently, “are physical.”

Ed closed his eyes, tipping his head against the wall again. “Can’t believe this is actually happening.”

He could hear the wry smile in Mustang’s voice when he spoke. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing.”

“I used to have such a fuckin’ crush on you,” Ed muttered, feeling the flush rush to his cheeks at the confession. “I thought I was crazy or delusional or that you were doin’ it on purpose to screw with me ‘cause I was supposed to like _girls_ —“

“I would _never,_ ” Mustang said, mildly horrified. “Edward, you were a _child_ and my _subordinate_ , I wouldn’t have—“

Ed opened his eyes again and leveled them back on the other man. “I know. It was just easier to tell myself that it was _you_ and not _me_ , ‘cause if it was me then that meant I was different and with everything else, it wasn’t… I didn’t want to deal with it.”

Mustang hummed in understanding and adjusted Ed’s collar until it lay correctly after his impromptu assault. “You had a lot on your plate.”

“Yeah.” Ed shivered when as warm fingers just barely brushed his throat. “We all did by the end of it. Then Al was back in his body and he was so _fragile_ and needed so much, and it was easier not to think about you when I didn’t have to look at your stupid bastardly face all the time, too, so I thought, well, maybe it was just a fluke.” He snorted. “Wasn’t, though. Obviously.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Edward.” Mustang smoothed his hand over Ed’s shirt one last time before drawing away, putting a little bit of distance between them. “I didn’t ever intend to act on my desires. I’ve been doing my best to keep my distance to stop myself from doing something foolish.”

“Is that why you’ve been skipping out on bar nights?”

Mustang suddenly looked very weary. “Yes and no. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said things at command were hectic.”

“You mean the war,” Ed said distastefully. He wasn’t sure if the shiver was from the cold brought on by Mustang’s distance or the idea of another damn _war_ but the air surrounding him was suddenly colder.

“Edward, please, I really don’t want to discuss it. Not tonight.”

Ed gave him a hard look and then sighed. “Fine. I guess if anyone’d have it under control it’d be you, but don’t think this is the end of this conversation.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mustang said.

“Consider it on pause, then. But you _have_ been avoiding me.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Call it cowardly if you like. I had hoped that maybe I could outlast my… infatuation. I didn’t ever mean to approach you with it.”

“Why the hell not?”

“At first, it wasn’t the right time. You were still trying to adjust to having your brother back, trying to adapt to the loss of your alchemy, and you were still so young. You still _are_ young—“

“I’m almost twenty, you _ass.”_

“You’re fifteen years younger than I am. It wouldn’t have been fair of me to lay expectations at your feet. It _isn’t_ fair. If you wanted to go home and forget this ever happened, you would be well within your rights and I couldn’t fault you for it.”

Ed was pretty sure that even if he wanted to, even if he really, really _tried,_ he’d never be able to forget this. “Fat fuckin’ chance.” He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to bid some of the warmth back into it. “Unless you want me to forget it. Unless you got a taste an’ you didn’t like it and you’re trying to backtrack, but if you don’t want me, you only have to say it and I’ll fuck right off.”

Mustang looked so stricken at the idea that Ed almost regretted saying it, but he had to be sure, had to know for sure what it was, exactly, that Mustang wanted from him before he lost too much of himself in the idea of wanting Mustang.

“Nothing like that, Ed. I’ve done this completely wrong, haven’t I?” He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, looking off to the side into the darkness for a moment before pulling himself to rights and turning his full attention back to Ed. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“What, like a date?” Ed choked out, floored by the very concept.

“Exactly like a date, yes. I’d like to do this right, if you’ll allow me.”

“I… I mean… I’d. Like that.” He was going red again, damn it.

The other man smiled brightly and Ed flushed darker, detaching himself from the wall and straightening in an attempt to regain what little composure he had left. “Tomorrow night, then?  Seven o’clock? I’ll pick you up.”

“Seven’s fine,” Ed said, finally recovering himself. “But if we die in a car accident before we get to any of the good stuff I’ll do everything in my power to make your afterlife as miserable as possible.”

Mustang raised an eyebrow. “Good stuff?” he repeated, smirking just a little bit. Bastard.

“The, um. Kissing. And stuff.”

“And stuff.”

“Are you making fun of me, Mustang?” Ed’s face was red again and there was a hint of embarrassment in his tone even though he’d tried his best to suppress it.

“Just teasing,” Mustang said, reaching out to curl an arm around Ed’s waist and draw him into his side. “You make yourself an easy target, and you turn a very endearing shade of red when you’re embarrassed.”

“I’ll show you fucking endearing, you stupid jackass,” Ed muttered, scowling, but allowing himself to be pulled closer all the same.

“Oh, I’m certain you will, and I can’t wait to point out each and every instance.”

Ed’s scowl deepened and he jabbed an elbow into Mustang’s side to let him know exactly what he thought of that plan. “Consider this your one and only warning.”

Mustang winced at the sharp jab but carried on, undaunted. “We’ll see,” he said simply, and started off down the street again, urging Ed along with him.

Ed muttered a few more profanities under his breath as they walked on and then he settled. The proximity to Mustang was… nice, he had to admit. Al was the only other person he’d ever been so close to outside of a fight or a hospital but Al was family and this was something else entirely.

The walk back to the little ground-floor apartment Ed shared with Al was short and the rest of it was spent in a comfortable silence. Mustang’s hand had slipped from his waist as they walked but the distance between them never grew, their shoulders brushing as they went.

Ed fished out his keys as they approached the door and stopped just at the end of the walkway, looking over at the other man. “So um. Thanks, I guess.”

There went Mustang’s eyebrow again. “For what, exactly?”

“For, uh, chasing me out of the… bar. It really was a stupid fuckin’ idea. And for…” he waved a hand between them. “You know.”

The confusion melted into something else, and a smile played at Mustang’s lips. “You don’t need to thank me for anything, Ed.” He drew the younger man in a little bit closer, looking down at him through his eyelashes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then? Seven o’clock?”

“Tomorrow,” Ed agreed, swallowing hard as his eyes locked with Mustang’s.

“Wonderful.” He hesitated for just a moment before leaning down to and pressing another little kiss to Ed’s lips. “Goodnight then.”

“Good… goodnight,” Ed stammered as Mustang drew away, casting him one last little smile before starting down off the walk.

Ed stood and watched his back until he disappeared into the dim glow of the streetlights, willing his pulse from the heights it had climbed to and giving the cool night air a moment to push the color from his face. Once he felt a little more composed, slipped his key into the door and let himself inside.

Al was sitting on the sofa reading under a lamp, a fat gray blob of fur curled contentedly on the arm of it next to him. He looked up at Ed when he entered and Ed hoped again against hope that the flush was gone.

“Hey Al,” he greeted, shrugging off his coat and hurling it vaguely towards the hooks on the wall.

“I thought you said you’d be out late. Did something happen?” Al had that Look in his eye that Ed had quickly learned was bad news. He did his best to avoid eye-contact.

“No, just a change of plans. I, uh, might be out late tomorrow, though.”

“Oh,” Al said, turning his attention back to his book. “Are you going out with the general?”

Ed sputtered a surprised cough but quickly worked to bring himself to rights. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure,” Al said, not looking up, “but he did kiss you goodnight so I assumed that meant there’s something going on between the two of you.”

“How in the hell—“

“I heard keys so I got up to check since you weren’t due back so early.” Al leveled another Look at Ed. “You could have told me, you know.”

Any hope Ed had of ever regaining a normal complexion was completely lost. He was burning red again, so hot and bright he’d probably managed to stain his face permanently. “Yeah, well, it was kinda sudden and, um, I was gonna tell you, I just haven’t had a chance. Besides,” he said, brightening considerably as a thought occurred to him, “how long did it take you to tell me about you and Winry again?”

Al stared at him for a moment. “Point taken,” he said quickly. “Just, I mean, are you happy? This is what you want?”

Ed thought about it for a hard moment. “Yeah,” he said finally, smiling a little. “Yeah, it is.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> There -may- be another part to this at some point in the future because there's some more I'd like to do with it, so if you liked it, keep your eyes peeled.


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